The Heart Grows Fonder
by Reetinkerbell
Summary: Draco has amnesia, and thinks that Hermione is his best friend. Too bad for Hermione, who is trying to get over their divorce. At Hogwarts, but not Hogwarts-Era. DracoxHermione, written for dramione duet.


**Title**: The Heart Grows Fonder  
**Fandom**: Harry Potter  
**Characters**: Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger, Others. **Pairing**: Draco/Hermione  
**Summary**: Draco has amnesia, and thinks that Hermione is his best friend. Too bad for Hermione, who is trying to get over their divorce. At Hogwarts, but not Hogwarts-Era.  
**Rating**: PG-13  
**Word Count**: 5 100  
**Spoilers**: 7th Book/AU  
**Warnings**: None.  
**Author's Note**: Thanks to my beta, **shag_me_draco.  
****Distribution**: Link only please.  
**Written**: November 2013 - For **mihnn** the **dramione_duet**'s (at LiveJournal) **Fifth Duet Challenge**. Her prompt is at the end.

**The Hearts Grows Fonder** (1/1)

Draco woke; his head hurting and Madam Pomfrey hovering about him, looking uncharacteristically worried.

"That must've been one really bad Qudditch injury," he said in an attempt at pretending he wasn't in extreme pain, "did we at least win?"

The fact that her worry visibly increased at his words was not at all reassuring.

* * *

As it turned out, Draco had not injured himself playing Quidditch. He thinking that it was a Quidditch injury had a very logical answer – his injuries usually were related to the sport, and the last thing he remembered was lacing up his shoes before a Ravenclaw game.

But the fact was that aside from the odd pick-up game with the Weasleys on Sundays when the weather was good, Draco hadn't played Quidditch for almost four years. His injury had been the result of inattention – both his and Neville's. They'd been sitting together in the Charms classroom, as Hermione, the recently appointed Charms teacher, held a demonstration for the faculty during a routine meeting.

Neville was worried about some plants not eating properly and Draco was too focused on watching Hermione than to listen to her talk – no matter how interested his other colleagues were in the topic and no matter how interested in the subject he would've been otherwise.

Draco remembered nothing of the accident that lead to his injury, nor the five years preceding it – including his marriage to and subsequent divorce from Hermione Granger.

* * *

Hermione bit down hard on her lip, not sure how to react.

It had been bad enough going through a divorce in the first place, then she had to come to terms with having her very recently turned ex-husband show up as a colleague without warning at the place she'd always felt most safe and where she'd gone to escape the life she'd once shared with him (not to mention the risk of always running into him at the Ministry, where they'd both worked). But now – now he didn't even remember that they had once been married. He believed that they were the best of friends; and due to the nature of his injury, she had to pretend to be happy to see him.

Every day.

Until he regained his memory and remembered why he'd wanted to divorce her in the first place.

Of course, once he remembered, he might be willing to share with _her_ why he'd wanted a divorce, since she was none the wiser despite having gone through it. Sure, they'd argued a lot during their last few weeks together, but nothing that was cause for divorce – as far as she'd been concerned. Every couple had rough patches, and their arguments had been silly if anything; certainly nothing as shattering as adultery. (Unless he'd cheated on her, but since she'd never suspected anything and he'd not been seen with anyone since they split, she doubted it.)

"I'm sorry, Miss Granger," Headmistress McGonagall said, looking very sympathetic indeed, "but I must agree with Madam Pomfrey on this – his injury is too severe and the damage that could be done to his brain if all was revealed could be devastating."

Hermione nodded along, pretending she agreed.

"I know it must be a very difficult situation for you, and I will try and make sure that your time together is limited," she looked down and away, suddenly looking her age, "I know that you have both made strides to avoid each other as much as possible since you both started working here, but with Draco's belief that you are close…"

Hermione nodded again, as her lips took further abuse from her teeth.

She and McGonagall stared at each other over the Headmistress' desk for a long moment, before Hermione stood and asked if there was anything else.

"Eh, yes," McGonagall shuffled some papers around on her desk, "I have a few more permission slips for our Hogsmeade weekend for you to look over; I know that you keep a second list of your students who are going."

Hermione accepted the papers and exited the room with as much grace as she could muster under the circumstances. She'd not seen much of her ex-husband since the start of term, aside from during mealtimes (but even then one or both of them often elected to eat in their rooms as they got used to the amount of work required of a teacher at Hogwarts) and she hoped that her luck in that regard would remain.

However, her luck failed her even before she'd finished the thought; outside of the Headmistress' office, stood Draco waiting for her.

The scene was so familiar Hermione ached in pain as she looked at him. He had often waited for her in the same way, leaning casually against the wall as she approached.

When they had worked together at the Ministry and their relationship had still been good, he'd always tried to wait for her; casually, even if he'd rushed to their meeting spot and only just arrived. It had almost been a point of pride with him, to never make her wait and to always try to walk her to her destination; be it a meeting (as they often had them together), lunch or for her afternoon tea.

When they moved in together, and shortly thereafter married, he always waited for her at the end of the day too, so that they could walk home together (sometimes stopping for dinner along the way). He did this even if he'd finished his own work for the day, and had to either help her file the last of her papers or read a book while she finished up some work. And he'd never complained - not even when he, instead of taking her out to a fancy dinner for their anniversary, had to run down to the corner shop and pick up some soup to heat for the two of them, which he ate in silence and she worked to finish an important case before a looming deadline.

It had all started at Hogwarts, and though they hadn't yet been dating when he began waiting for her after the classes they shared (or before lunch and supper, so they could head down together; supposedly to talk about Head-related issues) Hermione associated it with the time that they were together as a couple, and their time together at the Ministry. It was one of the reasons why she'd found it so difficult to return after he left her; every part of the building reminded her of him. And although most parts of Hogwarts did as well, it wasn't the same; she'd been at Hogwarts without him as her friend or boyfriend or husband, but she'd only been working at the Ministry with him by her side.

That he should remember enough of their life together to wait for her was disturbing, especially since she wasn't allowed to reveal to him the extent of their relationship, nor the fact that it no longer existed. According to Madam Pomfrey, his memory extended to the second game of the season in their 7th year, and no further; two whole months before their first kiss.

To his mind, they were still the best of friends, having become very close during the summer before their final year. Though his feelings of friendship weren't limited to her, she seemed to always have been the focus, even back when they'd truly been in 7th year; and now that only she and Neville remained at Hogwarts (and Neville spent most of his time on the grounds in one of his greenhouses, away from the castle) she was the logical choice for his attention.

Of course, as bad as it was that he would remember such a thing, the alternative was far worse; that he should seek her out because he was attracted to her, and wanted to be with her in a romantic way. He couldn't remember their first kiss, but although it had taken them several months after they became friends, Hermione knew that his romantic interest in her hadn't developed overnight, but had in fact been the catalyst for their friendship during the last summer he remembered.

"Hi," he said, smiling brightly as if nothing was wrong or odd about him standing there. "Are you heading down to dinner?"

Hermione nodded and swallowed. After a long look at the handsome face of her ex-husband, the love of her life and current bane of her existence, she turned and headed off in the direction of the Great Hall, knowing he would follow. He did, falling into step beside her easily, as if he'd done it a million times (and he had).

Draco chattered away as they walked together, seemingly not noticing (or unconcerned by) her lack of reply. He talked about how strange it was to suddenly be a teacher at the school he remembered only last week being a student at, but how easily he had fallen into the role – the careful notes he'd prepared for his classes had helped a lot, and the other teachers were quite helpful.

At first, Madam Pomfrey and Headmistress McGonagall weren't sure if he could handle being a teacher with his lack of memories, but after careful consideration and the knowledge that the familiar environment might spark his memories, they'd allowed it. He did have a helper, of sorts; Nearly-Headless Nick had taken a liking to him and was often hovering about the Potions classroom (despite the protests of the Bloody Baron), helping set the students straight if they thought they could pull a fast one on their slightly confused teacher.

The strangest part he'd had to get used to, he continued saying just before they reached the big doors, was sleeping alone.

The comment almost made Hermione pause, so intense was the pain in her heart.

"You ok?" Draco asked, turning to look at her.

"I'm fine," Hermione managed to get out, hoping he couldn't hear the way she gasped for air; it felt like she'd been punched in the gut and she didn't know what to say.

It'd been almost four months since he left her, and she still slept badly without him by her side. She was so far from used to sleeping alone that she had slept on the couch with Crookshanks (and he'd not been happy about her encroaching on his space) until she moved into her staff apartment at Hogwarts. Changing the bed from the one they had shared as a couple to one that was more or less the same bed that she'd slept in for her seven years at school had helped, somewhat. Most nights she was only able to sleep because she was so exhausted from teaching that she could do nothing else.

Draco continued to look at her, his brow now furrowed in the beginnings of worrying.

"I agree," Hermione said, looking at him to try and alleviate his concern. "It was difficult for me as well, when I first left Hogwarts. Worse almost than just going home for the summer, because you knew you were coming back and I didn't spend much time at home anyway."

He nodded, and started talking about something else as they walked down the hall to the staff table and their seats; on opposite sides of the long table.

* * *

It was the first Hogsmeade weekend of the term, and Hermione and Draco were on their way to the village. Hermione had first attempted to walk out with her students, the third year ones on their first ever trip to the village, but they'd scampered off and abandoned her to the mercy of Draco, who still sought her company whenever he could. He'd not originally planned on going to Hogsmeade, but when he saw Hermione prepared to leave, he'd rushed to his room for his cloak. She'd already made a good head start when he reached her, almost out of breath from his running; it was his appearance that'd scared off the last of the students that'd walked with Hermione, not that he'd minded at them giving him the privacy with Hermione he required, if he could only work up the courage.

Draco looked pensive, his brow furrowed as he walked beside her. Hermione fought the urge to ask him what was wrong; place a hand on his arm to stop him and make him turn and look at her so that she could help. It wasn't her place anymore, no matter what Draco seemed to think at the moment – their current friendship was only temporary and if she allowed herself to be fooled, it would only hurt that much more when he regained his memory and ignored her again.

"Are we together?" he asked, suddenly.

Hermione almost stumbled on nothing. "No," she finally replied, hoping her voice came out evenly.

Draco was quiet for a while as they continued. Hermione could see his mind working and she hurried her steps, Draco easily following, and dreaded what might come.

"Have we ever been together?" he asked, just as she had resolved to distract him from the turn his thoughts had probably taken.

Hermione bit her lip, uncertain. To say no would be a lie she didn't think she could utter; say what you wanted about the end of their marriage, she had been happy (and he had been too, she was certain; he wasn't that good of a liar) and just because he'd ended it, didn't mean that she should pretend it'd never happened. But to say yes might open a can of worms that went against all the rules Madam Pomfrey had set, and which she had agreed to follow.

She didn't answer for the longest time, and Draco was beginning to take it as a sign of admittance, when she instead asked; "Why do you ask?" in a tone she hoped sounded surprised and almost even shocked that he'd even suggested such a thing.

Draco shrugged, looking away uncomfortably now that he was put on the spot. "No reason," he said, and hoped that he sounded as nonchalant as he tried to. "I just figured I'd ask."

Unluckily for Draco, he was trying to lie to the one person who knew him better than he knew himself at the moment; she saw through his facade and knew all his tells. But since Hermione didn't want to talk about it, she welcomed his pretence.

They continued on in a tense silence, both picking up speed once more to end their now uncomfortable meeting. As they reached Hogsmeade, they separated with few words; Hermione scurried off down the street and Draco towards the closest shop. In the doorway, he turned and watched Hermione as she walked off, the snow flurries falling around her, his expression turning sad and wistful.

He couldn't admit to her that he'd been having rather vivid dreams about the two of them together; or the hope that had sprung in his chest at the thought that the dreams might actually be returning memories.

A hope she had now dashed, quite successfully and seemingly without a care at the pain it might cause him.

He bowed his head against the cold when Hermione disappeared into a shop further down the street and entered into the warmth of the supply store. He wasn't in need of anything, but he hadn't known where else to turn.

He wondered what his former self would think; the one he was before the accident. He'd lived several years with Hermione Granger in his life, in one form or another, and not been with her. If he felt anything for her like what Draco felt at 17, then the pain must've been unbearable. Had he never done anything to win her affections? Had he never asked her out?

Or had he been much too scared to lose her friendship? Her friendship was important to him; he could only imagine how much more important it would be after years of strengthening.

But still – what if she returned his amorous feelings? What if she'd been waiting for him to make a move all this time?

The thought gave Draco hope.

Until he realised that he didn't know; he couldn't remember. For all he knew, he'd tried to kiss her, or had asked her out several times, and she'd rejected him. Utterly and completely rejected him as even a _potential_ love interest. What if their friendship had only been saved by the grace of her benevolence?

Dejected, Draco purchased something completely useless and stalked back out into the snow.

* * *

And so it continued, their lives at Hogwarts; Draco uncertain but drawn to Hermione, unable to stay away, and Hermione, worried about what was to come and too scared to enjoy his presence.

Hermione wavered between wanting to hide from him and happy that he sought her out. She'd never gone so far as to purposely seeking him out, not yet; she kept reminding herself that it would be better that she hadn't, once he regained his memories – if nothing else, he'd not be able to accuse her of trying to influence him and playing with his mind when he didn't remember any better.

Because that's what he'd said when he left her; that she'd purposefully turned him against everything and everyone he'd grown up with, in favour of her "knowing better".

So their lives continued, until the Christmas holidays. Instead of Hermione going to the Weasley's home as planned, Ron and Ginny, along with Harry, defected as well, and came to join her at Hogwarts. It was the first Christmas she'd spent without Draco in several years, and when she owled Ginny with her regrets, Ginny worked as the go-between between Hermione and Mrs. Weasley to lessen the hard feelings Mrs. Weasley might otherwise feel. Her best friends, after talking it over, decided that despite what Hermione said, she shouldn't be alone during the holidays – and that Mrs. Weasley would understand. Luckily, she did, and packed them some of her best fudge.

The four friends spent a few wonderful days together, enjoying being back at a near-empty Hogwarts; playing in the snow, visiting Hogsmeade, and warming up in front of the fire.

When they left, Hermione felt rejuvenated and happy. Though she had missed Draco, (as she'd done every day since he left; even when she saw him at Hogwarts) there had been times when she'd been so busy enjoying just being with her friends and without the pressure of being a teacher and proving everyone who'd believed she could do it right, that she'd not thought of him.

She was actually looking forward to his return with brighter spirits; being away from him had cleared her mind and as much as she missed him as her husband, until he regained his memory, she would be his friend. He was obviously not going to stop trying to be close to her, and in the end, she'd be just as hurt if she'd not helped him when he needed her.

It was different for Draco.

He'd gone home to Malfoy Manor, where he spent a rather quiet holiday break with his parents. His mother had fussed about him being injured, but neither even referenced the resulting memory loss. Neither had visited him at Hogwarts to make sure he was alright (although he had gotten several owls and had been more than glad that they both stayed away) and oddly enough, it seemed to Draco as if his parents were actually, quite oddly, relieved at the memory loss.

His room at the Manor looked exactly as he remembered having left it the summer before 7th year; that in and of itself he found odd, but it was only several days into his visit when he realised that he was actually a grown man now. Before, when he thought about going home for the holidays, it'd never even occurred to him that he was probably no longer living at the Manor with his parents.

The realisation came during lunch time, when one of the house-elves served him a dish he used to like; he had no clear memory of no longer liking it, but when he took a bite it tasted _wrong_. He'd even complained to his parents, about the dish missing nutmeg; both had looked at him oddly (his mother's eyes widening strangely, as if she was afraid of something) before his father replied that the dish, which had been served in the Malfoy family for generations and was made by products grown and raised on their own land, had never contained nutmeg.

As they continued eating in silence, Draco avoiding the speciality dish he'd once loved, he realised that over the years he could no longer remember, something must've happened; his mind couldn't recall what, but his taste buds knew that he'd tried a similar dish; not quite exactly prepared as back home, but far better tasting.

Draco had frowned into his plate, realising that he'd been through several years worth of changes and that the differently tasting dish might even have been the result of himself trying to recreate it, without Manor help.

The thought was disconcerting; almost as much as realising he had no idea where he actually stood with Hermione, came the thought that he had no idea where he stood with his parents. They'd seemed surprised at him wanting to come home for the holidays – surprised but quite eager to welcome him; far too eager, in fact, since it didn't seem to be entirely relating to his injury.

It made Draco wonder if they'd had a falling out.

That evening, as Draco retired to bed, he walked along the hallways of his childhood and looked at the paintings anew. Many of them were silent; strangely silent, in fact. Frowning at his great-several-times-removed-aunt, who _always_ had an opinion, looking at him with a pinched look to her mouth and accusing touch to her eyes, he realised she'd been spelled silent.

He took out his wand, performed the necessary unblocking spell but did not prepare himself at all for what she had to say.

"Disgrace!" she shouted at him, "How dare you show your face here after what you did? TRAITOR!"

Draco backed away into the other wall at the force of her hatred. "I don't understa-"

"MUDBLOOD LOVER!" she screamed.

His eyes widening, he stood listening to her spew her unpleasantness; in her words, as hateful as they were, more was revealed to him than had been during the months since his injury.

His mother came running down the hall, silencing Aunt Grenalda with a swish in the middle of a word.

Draco stared at his mother; he'd never seen her run before.

She looked back at him, her face worried. "Let's go back to the sitting room and talk," she suggested, stepping forward to place a hand on his arm.

Draco shook her off. "No," he said. "You will tell me now; is it true?" he asked, his eyes begging.

Narcissa said nothing.

"I was married to Hermione-"

"Do not speak that mudblood's name in this house!" Lucius hissed, having come up behind his wife without either of them noticing.

Draco's eyes hardened as he looked at his father; Lucius looked angry, but Draco was not afraid as he once might've been. The truth was coming out, and it was making him stronger and reckless.

What followed was an ugly fight; Draco didn't know it at the time, but it was even worse than the one he'd had with his parents following his 7th year, when he told them that he was moving to London to live with Hermione and work at the Ministry; it was even worse than the one they'd had when his mother had found out through her gossip channels, that he and Hermione were getting married.

It was close to midnight when Draco stormed out of the house, unwilling to Apparate as only a member of the Malfoy family could. He hailed the Knight Bus and managed to scrape together enough money for his fair to Hogwarts. The journey was bumpy, but no one bothered him, and in less time than should've been possible, Draco reached Scotland and was dropped off at the school.

It was well past midnight when Draco trudged up the steps to his rooms. He laid down on the bed, still dressed, and wondered what he was going to do. It was only now, when the adrenaline of the fight and flight (though he liked to think of it more as a storming out in protest than a flight) had left him that he wondered what all of it meant.

That he'd been married to Hermione was shocking (although it explained a lot; the dreams he'd hoped were memories, her reluctance to tell him that they'd been together, the way Hermione's cat had been just as likely to want to sleep in his bed as it had in hers) but more so was the fact that they were no longer together. His parents obviously had not approved of his choice of wife, but surely they had not been able to influence him to the point where he left her?

Draco turned to the side with a sigh, his eyes falling on the trunk standing under a window. It had been locked with a password, and as he could no longer remember it, he had quickly given up trying. Now he rose from the bed, pulled the trunk further into the room and ran his wand over the keyhole while he whispered, "_Hermione_".

The lock clicked as the lid popped open. Draco could hardly believe his eyes as he opened it further, his heart beating like crazy in his chest.

Inside, was a treasure trove of their lives together; photos in frames, photos in books, photos displaying all kinds of emotions (the majority being happy ones), tickets to the films they'd seen, trips they'd taken, museums they'd visited. Their wedding album; Hermione in her white dress and he in black robes, both looking happier than ever before – Neville had been his best man, just as Draco had been his when he married Hannah the year after.

Draco sat, in the darkness of winter, flipping through photos and mementoes and remembering.

Everything.

* * *

When Hermione woke the following morning, she smiled as she stretched. Outside the grounds were thick with white snow, but inside it was warm and cosy. Although the holiday break wasn't over yet, she decided to take the day to prepare for a few more future classes, completely in love with her life in that moment.

She was eating a lazy breakfast and reading a book when there was a knock on her door. Not knowing what to expect, Hermione opened it.

Outside stood Draco; he looked horrible, his eyes red and his clothes wrinkly, his hair standing on end.

"What?" Hermione asked, less to question what he might want with her and more as a reaction to his rather shocking appearance. Only when she'd woken up in the hospital after an accident at the Ministry had she seen him looking worse; he'd cried then too.

"I am so sorry," he said.

Hermione didn't know how to reply, but when he seemed to crumble in front of her, she easily stepped forward to wrap her arms around him. He needed her, and regardless of how much pain she would suffer at the end of it, she could not stand to see him in any.

He kissed her, his lips pressing against hers in between mumblings of "sorry" and "forgive me". She did, not fully knowing what it was she was forgiving.

* * *

"You know," Draco said one day in spring as they sat together by the lake, enjoying the slight respite that came from the week before exams. "I only took this job to be close to you."

Hermione laughed, now that she could. "I knew it!" she crowed, turning in his arms.

"You did not," he argued. "I wasn't very obvious, was I?"

"I suppose you weren't," Hermione allowed, sighing dramatically. "So why did you take it?"

Draco caressed a lock of her hair away from her face, his eyes soft as they gazed into hers. "I just couldn't do it anymore; be away from you. I was upset and angry, and my parent's words had made sense but then, I just – I just didn't care. I didn't care if you no longer wanted me. I just couldn't not be close to you."

Hermione kissed him. "That's sweet, and kind of creepy, all at the same time."

Draco pulled her closer, hugging her to his chest. Hermione sighed happily, snuggling into him.

"I'm glad you did though," she said. "Even if it might've taken you a long time to work up the courage to try to tell me that, without the interference of your accident."

"Yes," Draco agreed. "I'm glad it worked out for the best."

A splash and sudden laughter drew their eyes to the shore some distance away; there, a group of six year students stood, a mix of all houses, enjoying a break from their studying. The laughter had come because one of them had tried to throw a flat rock on the water, after having claimed to easily be able to get seven jumps, and had failed spectacularly.

Draco and Hermione let them be, happy to just be together in their own bubble once more. Draco hadn't heard from his parents since he sent their last few letters back as ash. There might come a day in the future when communication opened between them once more, but for now, he was happy to have his real family in his arms.

They'd not yet remarried, but were planning to do so eventually; a few months later, that eventuality became an immediate necessity, when Mrs. Weasley realised that though they were expecting their first child, and both knew that they _were_ getting married, they hadn't planned on doing so before the child was born.

The ceremony was small, just as their first one had been (and it consisted of almost the same guests). A few months later, their first child was born.

But for now, as they sat in the grass together, they were happy to just be at peace with each other and in their relationship; they had weathered the storms, and could now relax without any outside influences on their relationship, enjoying the fact that their biggest headache in their lives were children who didn't turn their homework in on time.

**The End. **

**Prompts Used**  
2. Hogwarts Era: An accident at charms causes Draco to lose his memory. He thinks Hermione is his best friend. Oh, the drama!  
3. Draco tries to move on after breaking up with Hermione for his family. He finds it harder than he thought.


End file.
